It's that time again. Sitting in the chair here at the office has gotten just too uncomfortable. Crotch time. Looking around for privacy or hoping to be momentary invisible, I take that action of a half stand, and a tug or two for readjustment. Then, at full height, letting gravity work, look across the cubicle farm like a whale breeching. Sit down again, turn back to the machine.
Scratching oneself in public is one of those violations of social etiquette that we men were heavily scolded for by our mothers. Allow me, then, this vicarious, virtually defiant, act.